asses, but in so far as they may bring relief to our unhappy people,
I wish them Godspeed.'

'But what relief can they bring?' put in David impatiently. 'Without
Self-Defence----'

'Most true. They will but kill off a few hundred people with fever and
famine on some savage shore. But let them; it will all be to the glory
of Zionism----'

'How so?' David asked, amazed.

'It will show that the godless ideals of materialists can never be
realized, that only in its old home can Israel again be a nation. Then
will come the moment for Me to arise----'

'But the English came from Denmark. And they're nation enough!'

The owl blinked angrily. 'We are the Chosen People--no historic
parallel applies to us. As the dove returned to the ark, as the
swallow returns to the lands of the spring, as the tide returns to the
sands, as the stars----'

'Yes, yes, I know,' said David; 'but where is there room in Palestine
for the Russian Jews?'

'Where was there room in the Temple for the millions who came up at
Passover?' retorted Herr Cantberg crushingly.

The telephone here interposed, offering the furs cheaper.

'A godless Bundist!' the owl explained between the deals.

'A Bundist!' David pricked up his ears. From the bravest revolutionary
party in Russia he could surely cull a recruit or two. 'Who is he?'

The owl tried to look noble, producing only a twinkle of cunning. 'Oh,
I can't betray him; after all, he's a brother-in-Israel. Not that he
behaves as such, opposing our candidate for the Duma! Three hundred
and thirteen roubles,' he told the telephone sternly. 'Not a kopeck
more. Eh? What? He's rung off, the blood-sucker!' He rang him up
again. David made a note of the number.

'But what have you Zionists to do with the Parliament in Russia?' he
inquired of the owl.

But the owl was haggling with the telephone. 'Three hundred and
fifteen! What! Do you want to skin _me_, like your martins and
sables?'

'You are busy,' interposed David, fretting at the waste of his day. 'I
shall take the liberty of calling again.'

A telephone-book soon betrayed the Bundist's shop, and David hurried
off to enlist him. The shopkeeper proved, however, so corpulent and
bovine that David's heart sank. But he began bluntly: 'I know you're a
Bundist.'

'A what?' said the fur-dealer.

David smiled. 'Oh, you needn't pretend with me; I'm a fighter myself.'
He let a revolver peep out of his hip-pocket.

'Help! _Gewalt!_' cried the fur-de